


DIY is Not for the Faint of Heart or Weak of Will (Or Clumsy Boyfriends)

by MapacheLuna



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Arts and Crafts Incompetent Kuroo should be a tag too, Etsy Shop, Inspired By Tumblr, M/M, Oikawa has an Etsy shop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 11:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4874404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapacheLuna/pseuds/MapacheLuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You have a what?"<br/>"An Etsy shop."</p><p>Yeah, that's what Tetsurou thought Tooru had said the first time too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	DIY is Not for the Faint of Heart or Weak of Will (Or Clumsy Boyfriends)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aloyssia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aloyssia/gifts).



> SO. Hq-rare-pairs on Tumblr mentioned in a post of Oikuro headcanons a headcanon about Oikawa owning an Etsy shop and Kuroo being completely clueless, and then Aloyssia's an enabler, that's all I'm going to say on the subject.
> 
> This takes place in the not-so-distant-future where everyone ends up going to the same university -let me dream- and Oikawa and Kuroo immediately hit it off and are dating by their second year.

Tetsurou blinked.

“You’re doing _what_?”

Tooru popped a hip out and stared down at him on the couch. “I _said_ ; I need to buy some more stuff for my Etsy shop. Do you want to come with me?”

“For your Etsy shop,” Tetsurou repeated.

“ _Yes_ , Tetsu-chan,” Tooru sighed impatiently. “For my Etsy shop. Are you coming with me or not?” He glanced at his watch. “Because the craft store I need closes at four today.”

“You have an Etsy shop?” Tetsurou liked to think that he was usually a little quicker on the uptake than this, but Tooru still didn’t need to stare at him like that. “Since when?”

“Since high school,” Tooru rolled his eyes and took Tetsurou’s arm. “I sell clothes.”

“You make clothes?”

“Well, I decorate and modify them,” Tooru corrected, tugging at him a little. “And right now, I need more iron-on transfers, red clothing dye, and grey yarn.”

Tetsurou let himself be pulled up, following Tooru to the door of their dorm in a daze. “I can’t believe we’ve been dating for five months and you didn’t tell me you were running a secret business.”

Tooru snorted, somehow making even that look adorable as he looked back at Tetsurou with a scrunched up nose. “It’s not a secret; plenty of people know. Even Ken-chan knows.”

“ _What?_ ” Tetsurou shoved his feet into his shoes distractedly. “You told Kenma? You told Kenma and _he_ didn’t tell _me_?” He spread his arms beseechingly. “What kind of betrayal is this? Tooru, babe, I thought you loved me.”

Tooru laughed, pressing a quick kiss onto his jaw before waltzing out the door. “I love you loads; it’s just that Ken-chan wanted a Pikachu hat and then he found my shop-,”

“You made that?” He knew that hat; it was an adorable soft yellow Peruvian hat with ears and even a little tail sticking out of the back. Kenma had been attached to it throughout the entire winter. “Holy shit, you’re hot, athletic, _and_ talented.” He blinked at Tooru’s retreating back. “Can we get married?”

He got a loud, tinkling laugh as his answer.

* * *

 

Tetsurou quickly learned two things within the first seven minutes of stepping into the little craft store that his boyfriend apparently favored: one, there were many, _many_ different kinds of iron-on decals, and when asked his opinion, saying, “Well, just get the thickest ones. They’ll last longer, right?” was bound to get him disgusted looks from everyone around them. Two, Tooru was not above charming little old ladies out of the last ball of the very specific grey yarn he wanted.

“Tooru,” He hissed, pulling him close. “Really?”

“What?” Tooru looked at him innocently. He didn’t buy it for a second. “I needed it.”

“She was making her granddaughter a sweater,” He rubbing his only free hand down his face, the other arm loaded with Tooru’s supplies. “Did you really need to take it from her?”

“The next shipment will be in before Chiko-chan’s birthday,” Tooru dismissed. “And I have a commission due this weekend. Besides,” He picked up some opaque-looking, thin cylinders. “She couldn’t have needed it _that_ badly if she let me have it.”

“Don’t even; you know how you are.” Tetsurou could see the smirk curling Tooru’s lips up at the corners.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Tooru added the cylinders to the pile. “I should get some more felt while we’re here.” He beamed at Tetsurou. “Wait for me while I ask for it? The ones they have out here are always beaten up.”

“Charming bastard,” Tetsurou sighed, smiling when Tooru only tugged at his hair with a grumble, before walking off to find a poor sales clerk to harass.

Better them than him.

* * *

 

“How did you manage to keep this a secret?” Tetsurou waved his arm at the mess currently taking over their dorm room. “You’re a slob.”

“Don’t be mean, you’re starting to sound like Iwa-chan,” Tooru didn’t even look up from the shirt he was steadily snipping away at. “I’d do it in Iwa-chan’s room, or wait until you were in class.”

“I thought you said you weren’t keeping it a secret?” Tetsurou cleared a space and sat down next to Tooru, watching the careful way he was cutting along the line he’d drawn on the tee-shirt earlier.

“I’m not,” Tooru agreed. “But I do need a lot of space, and having you and Bokuto flopping all over the place would have messed me up.”

“Now who’s being rude?” Tetsurou scoffed. “Besides, Bokuto isn’t here.” Bokuto had left the day before on a weekend retreat with his Ecology class, having hung cheerfully out of the open bus window to wave at them while Iwaizumi tried to pull him back inside the entire time they were pulling out of the university’s parking lot.

“Exactly,” Tooru hummed, setting his scissors aside and giving the newly cropped shirt an appraising look. “And since Iwa-chan is on the same trip and wouldn’t give me his room keys…”

“Ah,” Tetsurou nodded solemnly. “So you didn’t even tell me because you wanted to, you told me because you _had_ to. Babe,” He put a hand to his chest. “I’m hurt.” When Tooru only rolled his eyes, he went on. “I think you need to kiss it better.”

“Kiss what?” Tooru was snickering. “Your ego?”

Tetsurou leered. “Sure, if you want. Although,” He ran his fingers through the soft little wisps of hair at the nape of Tooru’s neck. “I’d be okay with a regular kiss too.” He leaned in to plant a kiss on his neck. “Or a lot of kisses. We’ve barely seen each other this week.” And it was true; Tooru had papers due in almost all of his classes, and Tetsurou had had that presentation for his Personality Theory class that had kept him in the library almost every night, only returning to the room after Tooru had gone to bed. He had missed him.

Tooru leaned into his touch with a murmur, bringing a hand to his jaw to pull him up into a proper kiss. It was soft and warm, and something in Tetsurou’s chest unfurled with a happy sigh at the brief contact, but it was over way too quickly.

Tooru pulled back with an apology in his big, brown eyes. “I want to, I really do, but I need to finish this shirt and at least one hat today. I didn’t have time to work on them over the week.”

Tetsurou groaned and dropped him head onto Tooru’s shoulder. “Kept apart by felt and iron-ons; my life is a tragic comedy.”

He could feel Tooru threading his fingers through his mane of hair, curling around a few strands to tug affectionately.

“Why don’t you help me?” He suggested, voice light. “I’ll probably finish quicker that way and we can enjoy the rest of the weekend.” He paused in his tugging. “I missed you too.”

Tetsurou raised his head, peering at Tooru’s bright expression suspiciously. “You’re manipulating me.”

“Is it working?” Tooru raised an eyebrow, smile just a little too cocky to not know the answer.

“Yes,” Tetsurou sighed, looking at the spread of materials around them. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Don’t worry,” Tooru chirped, reaching for one of the cylinder-things he had bought. “I’ll give you something easy to do. Have you ever used a hot glue gun?”

“A what?”

* * *

 

Tetsurou looked down at his hand, distantly aware that he was in a not entirely negligible amount of pain. “Uh, Tooru?” When his boyfriend just hummed distractedly, he continued, “I’m stuck.”

“You’re what?” Tooru looked up and immediately dropped the shirt he was hemming, scrambling over with a gasp. “What did you do?”

“I did what you told me to do!” Tetsurou didn’t whine, but he could admit that he got pretty close. “I pushed the stick and pressed the trigger.”

“You used up half the stick!” Tooru shot back, yanking him up and dragging him to the bathroom. “How did you manage to use half the stick without noticing?”

“It just shot out,” Tetsurou protested, trying to pick at the glue, but Tooru just slapped his hand away. “Hey!”

“Don’t touch it,” He turned on the cold water and plunged Tetsurou’s hand underneath the stream. “If you try to peel it off just like that, you can rip off your skin.” He took a look at his hand, worry fighting with curiosity on his face. “You’re lucky it’s not a lot of glue, and that it’s only on the back of your hand. These things can leave nasty burns.”

“That’s because most of it is probably on the rug,” Tetsurou told him. “I’m telling you, it shot out like a stream. It _attacked_ me.”

“Uh huh,” Tooru said disbelievingly. “My hot glue gun, the one that I’ve always used without a single problem, just tried to kill you.”

“It was probably insulted that I touched it,” Tetsurou grumbled, watching his hand steadily turn red under the tap. “It knew that I don’t know shit about this stuff.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Tooru huffed, before his expression softened. “Are you okay though?”

“I’ll live,” Tetsurou shrugged, chuckling after a moment. At Tooru’s curious hum, he elaborated. “It’s just that this has nothing on the time Kenma and I tried to make homemade fudge. The microwave exploded, I broke my arm, and Kenma lost his eyebrows.”

“You’re joking,” Tooru breathed, eyes widening at Tetsurou’s headshake. “ _How_?”

“I’ll tell you another time,” Tetsurou promised, leaning over to peck him on the forehead. “It’s kind of a long story. Now, can you get this glue off? It’s starting to itch.”

“That’s probably the first degree burn you have,” Tooru told him, poking at the dried glue gently. “I’ll hold you to that though; I really want to hear that story. If you have pictures, that’d be great too.”

Tetsurou laughed, trying to hold back the wince as the glue came off his raw skin. “As long as you don’t make me touch another hot glue gun ever again, we have a deal.”

“How about shears? I need to cut some fabric up for the hats.”

“What’s the difference between shears and scissors?”

* * *

 

“Uh, Tooru?”

“What is-, Oh my God! Stop, stop, stop! Don’t bleed on the fabric!”

* * *

 

“Are you punishing me?” Tetsurou asked absently, fidgeting with his new bandages. “Because I already said I was sorry.”

“I’m not punishing you,” Tooru told him from behind his tripod. “You’re just making it up to me, and to poor little Chiko-chan, who’s not getting her sweater made early because you bled all over the last ball of yarn.”

“She wasn’t getting it anyway,” He reminded him. “You ripped the yarn out of her grandmother’s fragile, shaky, hands.”

“You’re remembering it all wrong,” Tooru waved the comment away. “She gave it to me.”

“Because you charmed her little old lady panties off.”

“I can’t help it that I’m gorgeous.” Tooru tossed back, before looking pointedly between him and the wide selection of clothes he had strewn across his bed. “Now, strip.”

“Not the context I wanted to hear that in today,” Tetsurou sighed before pulling his shirt off, grabbing the first one off the bed and tugging it on. “There, happy?”

Tooru pointed at the accessory pile. “Sunglasses, leather wristband, not that one, the black one, and,” He looked around the room before plucking Tetsurou’s black jacket off his desk chair, “This jacket. But don’t put it on. Just throw it over your shoulder.”

“Are you sure this is for your shop?” Tetsurou smirked at him, casually settling into the pose Tooru wanted -sunglasses perched on the tip of his nose, head slightly back, his injured hand in his pocket, the other holding his jacket over his shoulder, shoulders back to show off the distressed tank top he was wearing. “Because this is starting to sound more like one of your fantasies. You know, the one where-,”

“Shut up,” Tooru snapped, ducking his red face behind his camera, frantically hitting the shutter button. “We’re not talking about that; _especially_ when you wouldn’t be able to hold me up anyway, with your mutilated hand.”

“I’m kind of really shitty at this arts and crafts stuff,” Tetsurou admitted, dropping the jacket and pushing the glasses up into his hair when Tooru indicated. “I used to fail all of my art classes in primary.”

“And you couldn’t tell me that _before_ all of this because…?” Tooru looked up to raise an eyebrow at him.

Tetsurou shrugged. “Thought I’d grown out of it.”

Tooru snorted derisively. “Obviously not.”

* * *

 

“Ooh, can I do this one next?” Tetsurou plucked a hat off the bed, in the same style as Kenma’s Pikachu hat, but black and with a simple cat face on it, little black ears sticking out of the top.

At Tooru’s hesitant looked, he wheedled. “Come on, please? I won’t make fun of your food tonight, I promise.”

“Honestly, you’re so mean to me,” Tooru stomped over to snatch the hat out of his hands, only to pull it over his head, tugging and rearranging his hair underneath it. “Even Iwa-chan doesn’t complain about my cooking that much.”

“That’s because Iwaizumi has an iron stomach and dead taste buds,” Tetsurou said, smiling down at Tooru’s puffed out cheeks. “He built immunity over the years.”

“So, so mean,” Tooru muttered, giving his bangs one last, unnecessary, yank before pointing at the desk chair he had dragged over. “Sit down and try not to look so smug; I want sexy boyfriend, not asshole boyfriend.”

“Baby, sexy is all I’m capable of,” Tetsurou purred, tossing an arm over the back of the chair with a smirk and a flirty wink over at the camera. “I was born with it.”

“Says the same guy who sliced his palm open while cutting in a straight line.”

“Your craft stuff is cursed, that’s not my fault,” Tetsurou turned his head to the side, letting Tooru get his profile, when his eyes fell on another hat. “Oh, babe, you have to put this one on.”

“What?” Tooru looked up at him, confused as Tetsurou reached over and picked up a brown, floppy-eared dog hat. “You want me to model too?” He glanced between him and the camera dubiously. “I’m not sure I want you near any of my Etsy stuff anymore; you’d probably break it and electrocute yourself at the same time.”

“Now _that_ was mean,” Tetsurou stood up and eased the hat over Tooru’s fluffy locks. “And that thing has a timer, doesn’t it? Akaashi’s does, and your camera looks just as fancy as his.”

Tooru hummed, reaching up to help Tetsurou fix his hair. “It does. It’s how I usually take the pictures for my shop, since Iwa-chan refuses to help me anymore.”

“Probably because you take seventy pictures per item,” Tetsurou told him, stepping back to take in the image of his boyfriend with tiny floppy-dog ears perched on top of his head, in almost the same shade of his hair. “You look adorable.”

Tooru walked over to the mirror on his desk, moving the hat back just a little before turning back with a wide smile and pink cheeks. “I know,” He flashed him a quick peace sign and wink. “I can pull this off really well.”

“You’d be able to pull off old newspapers taped together if you really wanted to,” Kuroo told him, wrapping his arms around him. “Now, are we going to take these pictures or what?”

“Tetsu-chan always says the sweetest things,” Tooru cooed, giving him a kiss before squirming away to start lowering the tripod. “We’re too tall for the chair; we’re going to have to sit on my bed. Yours is a mess.”

“That’s _your_ stuff,” Tetsurou reminded him, sitting on Tooru’s bed regardless. “Why do you have so much unsold stuff anyway? I thought you did commissions.”

“I do,” Tooru moved the tripod back, peering between the view screen and Tetsurou sitting on the bed. “But I also make stuff ahead of time. I need to advertise with _something_ , Tetsu-chan.”

“Makes sense,” Tetsurou nodded, waggling his uninjured fingers at Tooru. “Come on, I want to see these pictures.”

“Patience, Tetsu,” Tooru scolded, finally hopping onto the bed next to him. “I set it to take fifteen pictures, five seconds apart.”

“Better move quick then,” Tetsurou yanked him closer, planting a kiss on his surprised boyfriend’s cheek just as the first click went off.

“Tetsu!” Tooru laughed, pushing at his face, another click going off.

“Now, Oikawa-san, that’s not very shop-worthy,” Tetsurou mocked, pulling his hands down to press kisses across the knuckles, not breaking eye-contact with him. “You’re a professional after all.”

“And you’re a tease,” Tooru huffed, scooting closer to rub their noses together, the camera’s shutter noise lost in the background.

“I don’t want to hear that from you, of all people,” Tetsurou pulled Tooru’s legs over his lap, bringing him as close as he could get him without actually pulling him into his lap. “You’re the King of Teases.”

“I don’t know,” Tooru fixed his slightly askew hat with an easy tug. “I think Suga-chan and Yaha-chan can give me a good run for my money.”

“That’s because Sugawara is a devil with an angel’s face, and Creampuff is your apprentice.”

Tetsurou really hoped the camera managed to capture the moment Tooru broke out into giggles, because that was an expression he didn’t want to forget for a long, long, time.

* * *

 

Hajime felt his eyebrows rising higher and higher with every new order he scrolled past on Oikawa’s computer. When he finally looked up, Oikawa was still standing there, hands propped on his hips and an annoyingly self-satisfied smirk tugging at his stupidly pretty features.

“I was gone for two days, _two days_ , Oikawa,” He jabbed at the screen. “How the hell did you manage to get _thirty-nine_ orders in _two days_?”

“Well, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa purred, leaning over his shoulder to click over to his shop’s main page, and alright, from this angle Hajime could clearly see the line of dark bite marks leading down from his collarbones, ew, “That’s because I updated my shop and Tetsu-chan was kind enough to model for me.”

Hajime looked back at the screen, and sure enough, he was staring at enough pictures of Kuroo Tetsurou for the man to put together a modeling portfolio. There were even pictures of Kuroo and Oikawa together, looking unfairly adorable in matching animal hats.

“Christ,” Hajime sighed, before leveling a flat look back up at his best friend. “This is pretty underhanded, even for you.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Iwa-chan.” Hajime quirked an eyebrow and pointed at a picture of Kuroo shirtless.

“And just what the hell are you selling here? His abs?”

“Of course not!” Oikawa crossed his arms. “I’m selling the belt.” He pressed a long finger to the thick, design-heavy brown belt barely holding Kuroo’s pants up past his hip bones. “Besides, those abs are mine. Not for sale. Ever.”

Hajime just shook his head, and silently bemoaned the fact that Oikawa would _definitely_ have enough money to drag him to that alien convention he had been whining about for months now.

Great.

**Author's Note:**

> Do I have any regrets? None, besides that I sat down and wrote this entire thing in one shot and it's 4am now and my eyes hate me right now. That, and I wrote this instead of working on the next chapter of "We're not Heroes," or the Iwaaka follow-up to the Soulmates AU that I promise I'm actually writing.


End file.
